


Vis-à-Vis

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Death, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was never going to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vis-à-Vis

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Victoria. Who is evil. You asked for this.
> 
> Please make sure you've read the tags and warnings before reading. I don't want to accidentally upset anyone.

 It was always going to come to this, Haytham supposes, gazing at his son’s anguished face and feeling his own heart clench in response.

They’d been doomed from the start. They’d both known it, but had persisted anyway, succeeding in twisting themselves into a knot of hatred and love and despair that only their deaths could hope to sever.

“We knew,” Haytham murmurs, raising one hand to stroke Connor’s cheek. “We knew it couldn’t last.”

Connor makes to pull away from his touch, but changes his mind, leaning into it instead.

“I cannot,” he whispers, eyes suspiciously wet. “Do not make me.”

“Connor-” Haytham sighs. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. I...” he breaks off, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to outlive you, even by a second.”

“Please,” Connor says, painfully forcing out the word before pitching forward to crush his mouth against Haytham’s.

Haytham tenses briefly but soon gives in, kissing back with fierce desperation. Their bodies meld together, fitting comfortably against each other with an ease borne of familiarity, reminding them both of the multitude of other times in which they have been similarly joined (though under rather less grim circumstances).

Eventually they are forced to pull back to breathe, though they do not completely back away, Connor’s arms circling around Haytham’s shoulders to hold him to himself in a loose embrace.

“Together then?” he murmurs, burying his face against Haytham’s neck.

Haytham bows his head in assent. “Perhaps that is best.”

They’d been fated to kill each other, though no one could have predicted father and son to fall in love in the process.

From the first time they had kissed to the last time they had lain together, they have both known the same thing; it couldn’t go on.

They are sworn to their respective causes; one a Templar who has dedicated his life to his Order; the other, an Assassin fighting for the freedom of his people, as well as for all. They are on opposite sides, yet have been drawn to each other all the same - by a connection as old as time, and twice as potent as their estranged familial ties.

It seems it has at last come to a head however. It simply can't prevail. Yet they are in too deep now; how can one continue without the other?

Fighting a duel to the death seems pointless and futile considering neither man would have been willing or able to utilise the full range of his abilities to harm the other. Yet neither can they abandon their duty; both of them have to die; each at the other’s hand.

Haytham wraps an arm around Connor’s waist to hold him closer still, kissing his hair and whispering “If my life is to end, I’d rather it happen whilst enfolded in your embrace.”

In lighter circumstances Connor would have snorted and mocked him for his sentimentality. Now it causes a sob to rise in his throat, and he hides his tears against the heavy fabric of his father’s coat.

“Shhh,” Haytham soothes him, even as he feels a lump rise in his own throat. “We are both seasoned killers, yes? It will be swift; neither one of us will be in any pain for very long.”

Connor pulls back to look at him, and Haytham is almost overwhelmed by the depth of feeling he sees in that dark gaze; love and despair, and a deep abiding sadness.

Releasing the Templar’s coat, he reaches down to take hold of Haytham’s right arm, gripping his wrist to bring the other man’s hidden blade to his own heart.

“At the same time,” Haytham reminds him, voice rough with emotion, watching as Connor reluctantly brings up his own hidden blade so their positions are mirrored. “Are you ready?”

Connor nods slowly. “Yes.”

It is quick.

Their blades thrust into each other in one smooth motion, the sharp pain that erupts from the wound insignificant in comparison to the emotional turmoil each man feels as they watch each other's blood begin to spill.

A strangled sob is torn from Connor’s mouth and he pushes closer, impaling both Haytham and himself further so he can kiss his father one last time.

“Konnorónhkhwa, raké:ni,” he murmurs against his mouth, even as he feels his own life begin to fade.

Haytham cannot bring himself to say the words back, kissing him tenderly instead.

Connor understands.

Struggling to breathe, both men sink to their knees, disengaging their hidden blades as they collapse against each other.

When they die it is in each others’ arms.

Their last breath sets them free, free from the clashes of loyalty, free from the crushing guilt and despair, free of all their duties and responsibilities.

For those last few moments of life they are once again just Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton.

It is a relief, to let go at last.

When they are found later, both Assassins and Templars alike assume they have fought a battle to the death, despite finding no other wounds on their bodies.

The truth is a secret they have taken to their graves.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to try and make this sadder but I couldn't figure out how, so please let me know if I succeeded in breaking your heart. It's for science.


End file.
